The Start of Something?
by Sable Supernova
Summary: Love can be hard to recognise the moment it arrives. Sometimes, it walks into a room screaming its presence. Other times, it merely leaves a door open as it sneaks in, a silent witness. Collection of one-shots and drabbles about blossoming relationships.
1. Dramione: Talking

A Dramione drabble written for Russian Roulette, over on HPFC. The gun was Era, the bullet was Trio Era.

* * *

 **Talking**

Hermione Granger wasn't much of a talker. I mean, sure, amongst friends, she could be very vocal, but she didn't talk with people she didn't know. She didn't talk to people she didn't like. Above all, though, she didn't talk in the library when she was trying to study.

So, when Draco Malfoy slid into the chair opposite her and fixed her with his smug stare and amused smile, she broke all three of her talking rules at once.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked, staring coldly back at him.

"Nothing, I was just wondering how you manage to not touch the parchment with your nose while you write," he commented.

"It's called depth perception," she mumbled back as she turned back to her Herbology essay.

"Of course you'd know that, you know everything, don't you?" he replied, and Hermione thought she could detect sarcasm in his voice.

"Not everything, no. I don't know why you're talking to me."

"Because you interest me," he said, and suddenly his smile was gone. She looked up at him again. She didn't know what he meant by that, or what he was trying to say. Hermione hated not knowing.

"Why is a Mudblood like me worth your interest?" she countered, emphasising the derogatory term as it left a bad taste in her mouth.

"I don't know," he replied, and stood to leave.


	2. Jily: The Elements of Lily Evans

**A/N: Written for the May Event at Hogwarts, for the prompt 'element'.**

 **Written for the Huge TV Show Quote Bucket, Quote: "You know I love you more when you're cold and heartless." -** ** _Eric Northman, True Blood_**

 **Words: 116**

* * *

 **The Elements of Lily Evans**

"Hey, Evans, go out with me?" James shouted down the corridor, a grin stretched across his face as a dozen heads turned to him.

"Have I dated the Giant Squid yet, Potter? No!" Lily swiveled around to reply, reminding him of the promise she'd made a year ago.

"You know I love you more when you're cold and heartless, right?" he grinned.

"Seriously, James, what's with that?" Remus asked him from his right. "Why do you taunt her on purpose when you know how she'll react?"

"Because it's one of the elements of Lily, isn't it? It's part of what makes her _her_ ," he replied with a smile, as if he considered the matter now closed.


	3. DracoLuna: Choices

Written for the Weekly Elimination Weird Prompt Thing Competition, for the Final Tie-Breaker.

This is the het pairing, Draco/Luna

Words: 255

* * *

 **Choices**

The Memorial Ball had started off respectful and forlorn, but that was before they all drank too much. When he'd arrived, Draco had been treated with a distant respect. Intoxicated as they now were, the old grudges of many of his former classmates had risen back to the surface.

He'd stepped outside onto the fire escape, the cool breeze less stifling than the atmosphere inside, and lit up a cigarette.

The door behind him swung open and he turned casually to see who'd decided to keep him company. He withheld a groan when he saw Loony Lovegood. He wasn't sure, however, if it was his imagination, or if she really had grown pretty over the years.

"Draco, I was looking for you," she said, as she came to stand next to him. Draco looked away, finding her radish earrings a little too easy to openly stare at.

"Lucky me," he commented. She merely smiled.

"It's a shame no one else sees it," she continued. "Out of every one of us, you had the hardest choice to make, really. It might have taken you a while, but you made the right choice in the end."

He turned to look at her, confused and taken aback by her words. Before he had a chance to say anything, to even think of a reply, she leant forward and placed a gently kiss on his lips. She smiled at him again, and turned to walk away.

Draco was left wondering if maybe, just maybe, he'd been wrong about her.


	4. WolfStar: Dreams

Written for the Weekly Elimination Weird Prompt Thing, for the slash pairing.  
Wolfstar.  
Words: 299

* * *

 **Dreams**

Remus always tried not to even think about Sirius and sex in the same sentence. The two parts of his brain were separate, compartmentalised. At least, they were when he was awake. Sirius was his friend, and friends were in short supply for a werewolf.

But at seventeen, his lack of a relationship history was beginning to become noticeable.

"Remus, you got a girlfriend yet?" James asked casually one evening.

"Nope," Remus replied, trying to quell the burning of his ears.

"Isn't it obvious he's in love with me?" Sirius asked with a taunting grin.

"Padfoot, according to you, the whole world is in love with you," James retorted. Remus was grateful that he hadn't had to think of a response himself.

"Well if I say it enough, it might come true," Sirius countered.

When he went to bed that night, Remus fell into a restless sleep, turning and twisting as he slipped from one illicit dream into another.

"Moony," a voice attempted to bring him out of his slumber. He heard it somewhere on the edge of his consciousness.

"Remus," the voice tried again.

"Sirius," he mumbled as he came around.

"Yeah, you keep saying that," the voice, Sirius, said.

"What?" Suddenly, Remus found himself wide awake, staring into the grey eyes of one of his oldest friends. His dream had already fallen from his memory, but the pounding of his heart, the sticky sweat on his back and the tightness in his groin were enough for him to know what it had been.

"When I said you were in love with me, I was joking, you know," Sirius commented with a smirk.

Remus felt his cheeks flush red as he lay there, words failing him.

"It's okay," Sirius said. He smiled and leaned in to kiss him.


	5. FredLee: Catch

Written for the Speed Drabble Competition over at Hogwarts, for the following prompts:

Fred Weasley/Lee Jordan, "catch" and "That's the most brilliant idea I've ever heard!"

Words: 544

* * *

 **Catch**

"We just need to catch a bowtruckle," Fred said with a shrug, as if nothing in the world was more obvious.

"That's the most brilliant idea I've ever heard!" Lee replied, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Fred managed a small smile, before saying, "Of course it is. I said it."

They had a plan, the three of them. Fred, George and Lee. They were going to cause havoc in the Slytherin common room. They already knew how to get in. They had the pixie, the gnome, the feral cat and the buttober. Now, Fred was convinced they needed a bowtruckle.

Lee's grin faded a little. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Fred replied.

They were heading towards the greenhouses, on their way to their next lesson. It was a cloudy day, but it wasn't as cold as it could have been. All the same, there was an air of melancholy hanging over Hogwarts that day, or so Lee thought. _Perhaps,_ he considered, _it's just Fred_.

"It's George's own fault he's in the Hospital Wing, you know. He knew that potion came with risks, and he'll be out by dinner time. Poppy said so," Lee reassured him, wondering if being without his twin was what was making this half of his best friend so grim.

"I know, he'll be fine. It's not about that," Fred replied.

"So there is something!" Lee replied, sounding oddly victorious, before sighing. "What is it?"

"Angelina said I was a bad kisser. She said she'd never go on a date with me again. I can't be that bad, surely?" Fred admitted, looking downhearted.

Lee thought for a moment. "Do we need to go to Herbology?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

Fred answered in the negative, and Lee motioned for him to follow him, into the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"What are you doing?" Fred asked, nervous.

"You wanna know if you're a good kisser, right? Well, kiss me," Lee told him.

"What? You're crazy," Fred replied with a nervous laugh.

Lee began to turn away but, half turning, looked back at Fred.

"Look. I like girls; you like girls. I've kissed before; you've kissed before. You've got a problem; I can help. I can give you an entirely unbiased opinion on the matter. I thought you were a Gryffindor?" Lee stated, raising an eyebrow at his friend. Fred seemed to consider it for a moment, weighing it up in his mind.

"Fine," he said, before taking a step towards his friend.

As their lips met, it was awkward and uncomfortable. Both were tense and unsure. But as Lee's tongue begged for entrance, and Fred allowed his lips to part, something seemed to change. The two of them relaxed, stepping closer to each other, allowing their bodies to press flush together. When they pulled apart, both Lee and Fred were flushed, their breaths coming heavy. They stared at each other for a few moments, unsure who ought to speak first.

"So, what's your verdict?" Fred asked, an unmistakable husk in his voice.

"Oh, er, you're, er, not a bad kisser," Lee responded, finishing with a small cough as he looked away from Fred.

Fred smiled. "Good," he said.


	6. Dramione: Guy Fawkes Small Talk

Written for the May Event at Hogwarts for the prompt: bonfire

Words: 118

* * *

 **Guy Fawkes Small Talk**

It was that bonfire that did it, Hermione saw that now. Hermione was alone and content, as Ron and Hugo were in the queue for candyfloss and the Potters were running late.

The whole scene reminded her of a time before Hogwarts, before the war. It was so _Muggle_.

Then she saw him. She hadn't seen him in years. Draco Malfoy. He'd been fighting through the crowd, and suddenly they were feet apart, face to face.

"Hermione." He stared in shock.

"Draco."

They made idle small talk, as lost acquaintances do.

"I should get back, but... how about a coffee sometime?" he asked.

"Sure."

That was the moment. Fifteen years wed, and that was how the end began.


	7. Harry SquibGinny: Rowing Boat

Written for the Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge: Thaddeus Thurkell - Write a Squib!AU

Words: 544

* * *

 **Rowing Boat**

"Hey, Ron," Harry called as they reached for their trunks. It was the end of the school year, and they were heading home for summer, but already, Harry's thoughts turned to next September. "Your sister will be coming to Hogwarts next year, won't she?"

Ron frowned, and stopped in his steps. "Harry, she's a Squib."

.o0o.

Harry loved his visits to the Weasleys' home. Not just because Molly fed him all the best food, or because he got to spend time with his best friend. No, Harry loved spending time with Ginny.

Ginny, of course, hated it. She hated hearing the stories, because Ginny longed to be a part of them. She hated talk of magic, and Hogwarts, because it was a life she'd never have. But she always had a smile for Harry.

.o0o.

They almost didn't bring her to Grimmauld Place. They were worried that it would be too dangerous for her, the girl who couldn't defend herself. It was Fred who'd convinced them otherwise. Harry would be eternally grateful.

But as most of the strong and able fighters in the war, the ones who stood by each other no matter what, were also calling Grimmauld Place home for the summer, there really wasn't a safer place for her.

.o0o.

Being with Ginny was peaceful. That was what Harry concluded.

In the magical world, with his friends and professors, everything was tense and busy. There was a war on that they were all fighting, and they were so acutely aware of it, it seeped into their every movement.

But Ginny was eternally on the side lines. A substitute on a bench. Watching the game, learning, worrying. Hoping her team won. She just never got to play. After a few years, she even stopped complaining about it.

Harry liked being with her, because only there did he get a taste of what it's like outside of the centre of all attention. He got to sit back and enjoy the scenery.

Looking at Ginny, he thought the scenery seemed wonderful.

.o0o.

"Ginny, I was wondering if you wanted to go out. For coffee. With, er, me," Harry asked, his hands handing limply by his sides, his palms sweaty.

She turned to look at him with a smile, but her brow furrowed in confusion. "Harry," she began, unsure. "Why me?"

Harry could almost laugh. Of all the things she could have said, he thought he'd got off lightly.

"Because... My life, this war, it's a maelstrom. There isn't a moment's peace because if you stop fighting, you lose. And you're... you're a rowing boat in the harbour. You're so close, you're watching it, but you're calm. Still. It's peaceful. Refreshing. I need that," he reasoned.

"So, because of what I represent to you? That's why we should go and get coffee?" she reasoned.

"No," Harry smiled. "You're also funny, and quick, and passionate. You're strong, witty and powerful. In some ways, I'm kind of glad you don't have a wand, because if you did I'd be scared of your hexes." He laughed, even though he knew it was still a sore subject for her. But she laughed too.

"Okay. Coffee," she agreed, before turning away with a smile.

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

* * *

 **AN: I know, I know. This completely messes with canon events. But I was having fun.**


	8. SiriusMarlene: Contest

**Written for:** Hogwarts Writing Club  
 **Prompt:** Contest  
 **Words:** 527 words  
 **Characters:** Sirius Black and Stebbins  
 **Summary:** Black and Stebbins are both after McKinnon.  
 **A/N:** Stebbins is what I like to call a canon OC. We only know his name.

* * *

 **Contest**

 _Stebbins_

It wasn't a contest. Two boys liking the same girl doesn't automatically make it some macho show of prowess, both scoring points to win the girl.

I wasn't interested in scoring any points. She was a friend, anyway. If she liked him, and not me, then I couldn't afford to be bitter about it, or I'd lose it all.

I didn't have any tactics; I didn't think I needed any. I was content to be her friend and ease my way closer to her through mutual interests. That was all.

 **.o0o.**

 _McKinnon_

When Mary told me Bert fancied me, I burst out laughing. I felt sorry for him, of course I did, but it was Bert. He threw up on my shoes during our first flying lesson; I wasn't exactly first in line to get with him.

And then I started to notice him. It was subtle, I'll give him that. He was just slowly around me more and more until his presence became natural, and I didn't see it coming.

I guess I noticed it when Sirius came over to talk about our Potions homework, and Bert kept interrupting and trying to join in. He doesn't even do Potions.

Sirius got really annoyed at that.

Mary tried to make out that Sirius was jealous of Bert. She's such a joker.

 **.o0o.**

 _Black_

"Mate, you know Stebbins likes her, too?"

It didn't take much to make it a contest. I knew he was friends with her, so I couldn't pretend he wasn't any competition, but I was confident I would win.

What I didn't bank on was how often he would be by her side. He didn't seem to be saying anything; he wasn't making any moves. He was just… there. Irritatingly, constantly there, interrupting me, blocking my attempts at flirting.

The worst part was how completely ignorant she was of the whole situation.

 **.o0o.**

 _McKinnon_

It wasn't a joke. He asked me out after Herbology.

What do you do when a self-proclaimed Sex God asks you to Hogsmeade that weekend? Some girls might jump at the chance. Others might play it cool, suggest they'll have to check their schedules. Me? I tell him I'm going with Mary.

I don't know what he thinks of me now, but I think I just blew it.

After classes, I went for a bit of a wander before I headed to dinner. I needed time to reflect on what an idiot I'd been.

It didn't even surprise me when Bert showed up at the top of the moving staircase when it shifted, smiling down as he leant against the banister, waiting.

What surprised me was his question. Did I want to go to Hogsmeade with him this weekend.

"Sorry, Bert. Someone else already asked me." It worried me how quickly the answer came, with the omission of the truth nicely slotted in.

Awkward conversation ensued. It would be so much simpler if people would just say, "Oh, okay," and walk away.

They never do.

When he did leave, I wasn't alone.

A face peaked out around the corner of a wall.

His face.

"Already been asked, eh? What did you say?"

I couldn't help but smile.


	9. ColinLuna: A Photograph

Written for:  
Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Club: Glover Hipworth - Someone cheers someone else up.  
200 Characters in 200 Days: Colin Creevey  
Writing Bingo: Colin Creevey.  
480 words.

* * *

 **A Photograph**

When Colin wasn't taking photographs of Harry Potter, or even trying to take photographs of Harry Potter, he was trying to take photographs of everything else. All the doors Hogwarts had opened for him, all the things he'd never thought possible until he'd walked through those castle doors for the very first time.

It was late, close to curfew, when Colin was trying to capture the perfect angle for the House Points hourglasses in the Entrance Hall. With the enchanted candlelight behind them, reflecting off their curved, shining surfaces, Colin had decided that the evening was the best time to take a photograph.

He was just ready to press his finger down

He was just about ready to press his finger down when he caught sight of her, heading through the Entrance Hall with a look of determination. He stared, stunned at her appearance. Long, white-blonde hair tumbling down her back. Bare feet not flinching at the cold of the stone floor. Red, round earrings that looked an awful lot like radishes. Colin was mesmerised. Forgetting the Hourglasses he'd been so intently focused on, Colin headed after her into the castle, following her progress.

"Excuse me, Miss, can I take a photograph?" he asked, calling out down the corridor in the hopes that she'd hear him. She did, and she stopped and turned, but only then did he see the red rings around her eyes, the watery look of her pupils and the track marks down her cheeks. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to bother you."

"It's okay. Why do you want to take a photograph?" she asked, direct and curious as she forced a smile.

"Because I think you're really pretty," Colin admitted, thinking this girl looked as though she could use some cheering up.

"Thank you," the girl replied with a smile more genuine than the last.

"I'm Colin Creevey," he told her, by way of introduction.

"Luna Lovegood. Or, Loony Lovegood according to everyone else," she replied, without even a hint of the expected derision.

"If you don't mind me asking, where are your shoes?"

"Oh, I'm not sure," Luna replied, looking thoughtful and confused. "They must have wandered off. I'm sure they'll be back soon. Things have a way of coming back to us, often unexpectedly," she wisely replied. Or, at least, Colin thought it was wise, although he wasn't entirely sure what she meant by it.

He asked her to stand by the wall, beside a torch to give a warm light to her face.

"Why were you crying?" Colin asked, curious.

"Oh, it doesn't matter. I was crying because people aren't always nice all of the time, but it's okay now. You see, most people are, most of the time. Thank you."

Colin wasn't entirely sure what she was thanking him for, but he accepted it awkwardly all the same, and took his photograph.


	10. RemusMarlene: Ornithology

**Written for:**  
 **February Event at Hogwarts:** (plot/action) receiving a card/gift from a Secret Admirer, and (object) box of chocolates.  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Marlene McKinnon  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 114\. My, Oh My  
 **Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Diricrawl - someone acts exceptionally sweet in your story.  
 **Valentine-Making Station Challenge:** Red ribbon - write about a Gryffindor.  
983 words.

* * *

 **Ornithology**

Marlene hated Valentine's Day. She didn't let it be known, of course, because she knew that most of her friends loved the day, but she'd spent all morning so far walking around in quiet derision. James Potter, of course, was in the best spirits today, and he'd already showered Lily with more attention than anyone should ever receive on a Monday morning. She'd received a card, a box of chocolates, a bouquet of flowers, a serenade and a proposal already, and they'd only just finished their first class of the day.

At least, Marlene considered, Lily was hating today as much as Marlene herself was.

Sirius Black had been unusually quiet for most of the morning, but he was rather vocal about his plans for the evening when prompted to it by James. His latest fling was some Hufflepuff girl in the year above.

Evangeline and Lauren, Marlene's dorm mates in Gryffindor, were both busy with their respective partners, and Mary MacDonald had even been spotted cosying up to Peter Pettigrew that morning.

It all made Marlene's stomach churn.

The idea that there was one day of the year when everyone was supposed to be in love, when grand gestures and tokens of appreciation were expected to be exchanged, was preposterous to the cynical sixteen year old. She firmly believed that love was love no matter what day of the year it was, and that the added pressure of the special day either made couples panic and question the very foundations of their relationship, or made the rest of the population feel inadequate.

Of course, she adamantly denied that any of these reasons had anything to do with the fact she'd never received a Valentine's.

By lunchtime, Marlene was more than ready to curl up and sleep, cancel the day and start afresh tomorrow when all the madness had died down. She wolfed down a quick meal and made her excuses, hoping for a quick fifteen minutes to lie down and refresh her batteries.

She was pleased to see, when she entered the dormitory, that the decorations Evangeline had been threatening to put up around the beds had not actually made it to fruition. It meant that, save from a couple cards, the room was bare of all mention of what day it was. Perfect.

And then Marlene spotted her bed. The sheets were perfectly tucked in, as ever, and the curtains were tied back. The pillows had even been fluffed. None of that caught Marlene's eye. Instead, her gaze was drawn to a box that lay in the middle of her bed, wrapped in shiny red paper and tied with a dark red bow. There was a little card poking up from beneath the ribbon and, hesitantly, Marlene approached to read.

 _From your secret admirer, who knows you don't like Valentine's Day, but thought you'd appreciate the knowledge that someone's got their eye on you all the same. Happy Valentine's Day._

That was it, no name or hint. Marlene frowned in frustration. The ink had even been charmed to a fine calligraphy that disguised the writer's handwriting. Sighing in annoyance at the little puzzle, she tugged at the bow, unravelling the ribbon so she could reach the gift inside.

She was hardly surprised to find a box of chocolates, and immediately considered the possibility that they'd been altered by way of a love potion or some other such nonsense. She opened the lid to have a little sneak at what was inside, and drew in a sudden breath of surprise.

"My, oh my," she whispered, flabbergasted.

She'd expected normal hearts or round chocolates, something mass-produced and mediocre. Instead, she found proof that whoever this secret admirer was, he'd been paying attention. Marlene had produced a Patronus once in her life, in a Defence Against The Dark Arts lesson a few months ago. She'd hardly been surprised when a peregrine falcon had burst forth.

As a child, she'd grown up watching them soar over the Yorkshire Moors, and had fallen in love with the freedom the animal represented. The bird was a fierce hunter, but also highly intelligent and versatile. It had learned to adapt to the modern world by moving into cities, switching its rocky cliff nest for a ledge of a building.

Each of the ten chocolates captured a different view of the falcon: one in flight, one diving, one of a young bird resting in a nest. Each was a small work of art, beautiful and meaningful enough to make Marlene smile.

She closed the lid and left the chocolates where they were on her bed. Instead of resting like she'd intended, she went back downstairs, more optimistic than she had been all day. The Common Room was largely empty as lunch was still being served, but sat on the couch by the fire reading a book was Remus Lupin.

He looked up and smiled, closing his book, when he heard her approach.

"Hey."

"Hey," Marlene greeted, moving to sit beside him. "What are you reading?"

"Nothing much. An old book, now. Muggle. _A Kestral for a Knave_ ," he replied.

"I've read that," Marlene smiled. "It's sad."

"Sad stories are good. They make us feel better about ourselves."

Marlene smiled politely, half-understanding his point. "So, what made you want to read that book? Was it the realism in the depiction of the hard lives of the working poor, or are you just particularly interested in birds?"

Remus laughed a little at the choices she'd given him. "Well, if those are my only options, I guess you could say I've developed an interest in birds recently."

Marlene laughed a little, and the conversation moved on to other topics.

It was only later, lying in bed as sleep began to claim her as its own, that she was struck by the stark realisation that maybe, just maybe, that had been her clue.


	11. When Draco Met Astoria

**Written for:**  
 **February Event at Hogwarts:** (title) When [name] Met [name], and (restriction) must take place on Valentine's Day.  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Astoria Greengrass  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 481\. Caffeine  
 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Write about Draco Malfoy.  
759 words

* * *

 **When Draco Met Astoria**

It might have been Valentine's Day to everyone else, but to Draco Malfoy, it was just another Tuesday. His day had begun just like any other, and it was his intention that it would remain just like any other.

It wasn't that he was against all notions of romance; it was simply that Draco Malfoy had a very important job now, and very little time for love. It didn't help matters that he considered the paper love hearts and reds and pinks in every shop window to be thoroughly garish and tacky.

He arrived at Diagon Alley at his usual time of forty-five minutes past seven by Apparition, and headed to his usual coffee shop for his caffeine fix before entering the office. Looking in the window of The Wizard's Brew, however, Draco changed his mind about going in today. The shop was completely overdone for the day, with every surface a bright 'romantic' colour, covered in hearts and flowers. A large sign in the window advertised a Valentine's Day special buy-one-get-one-free offer, and the patrons were pouring in. Draco really didn't fancy joining that queue.

He knew there was another coffee shop around here somewhere, although he'd never been in. He knew the coffee at The Wizard's Brew was good, and he didn't know whether it was worth his Sickles at the other place. That was enough to make him stick to his usual place on most mornings, but today he considered the risk of bad coffee to be less of a hindrance than the soppy Valentine's Day crowd.

He headed down Diagon Alley a little further, looking for the little shop with the hanging sign outside advertising a steaming cup of coffee. Finding the shop, he was comforted to see that the only seasonal decorations they had up was a small collection of love hearts in the corner of one window, and they weren't showcasing any promotions. It looked perfect.

Stepping inside, the warm aroma of coffee provided immediate relief from the late winter air outside, and Draco almost smiled. He walked up to the counter and waited in line, grateful that he was only the second person in the queue. The girl serving had her back to the counter as she made a drink, and Draco saw something familiar about her long, mousy brown hair.

She turned around with the drink, giving it to the man in front of Draco who quickly paid and was soon on his way. Draco stepped forward and was greeted by a welcoming, fraudulent smile.

"Happy Valentine's Day," she began, her voice far too cheery for this time in the morning. "What can I get you?"

"'Happy Valentine's Day'," Draco repeated, dryly. "Is it really?"

The girl smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Honestly, I'm not sure, but they pay me to insist it is," she replied.

Draco laughed. "Just a regular latte, please."

The girl immediately turned around to fix his drink, working efficiently, which Draco approved of.

"Don't you usually drink at The Brew?" the girl asked, curious.

Draco was a little taken aback that she seemed to know him. "Er, yeah, but not today. Do I know you?"

"Oh," she looked back over her shoulder at him, her hazel eyes apologetic. "No, sorry, you know my sister, Daphne. I'm Astoria Greengrass. I was two years below you."

As soon as she said it, Draco remembered. An image came to mind of two sisters, always sitting together in the Common Room. The eldest had been proud and boastful. The younger had been quiet in her ambition.

"I remember now," Draco smiled. "Didn't you want to work for the Ministry?"

"I still do," she quickly replied. "I'm working on it." She turned around, placing his coffee in front of him. "Eight Sickles, 4 Knuts," she quoted at him.

"Cheaper than the Brew," Draco noted with a slight nod of his head.

"And better, in my opinion," she smiled.

Draco paid and took his drink as he handed the money over.

"Nice seeing you again, Astoria," he commented, making to leave.

"You too."

Outside the shop, Draco took a small sip of his coffee, curious as to the quality. He had to agree, the coffee was better. The prices were better, too. The service, he considered, was much more personal, and Astoria had a better sense of humour than anyone who'd ever served him at the Brew. Maybe it was time he changed his routine a little, he thought, and make the move to the Inglenook Coffee Shop a permanent change.


	12. RolfLuna: Something Better

**Written for:**  
 **February Event at Hogwarts:** (plot/action) meeting S.O. for the first time, and (colour) coral.  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Rolf Scamander  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 451\. Raised Eyebrow Questioningly.  
 **All About You Challenge:** Write about someone holidaying in Italy.  
 **Valentine-Making Station Challenge:** Moon sticker - write about Luna.  
 **Words:** 628

* * *

 **Something Better**

I'd given up almost entirely all hope of encountering a creature so encased in folklore and myth until I saw the article. It was only by chance that I even saw the article, as it was published in the wizarding newspaper in Italy. I was in Italy studying pixies, as a recent study done by an esteemed colleague of mine suggested pixies had different behavioural traits in different countries, and that these were in line with cultural differences present in the Muggle populations in each country. It was an intriguing theory, but more research needed to be done, and so here I was collecting data from the third country on the list.

I'd almost completed my research and was looking into booking a Portkey to Greece when I read the article. At first, I thought it was another sensationalist piece, someone down on their luck trying to make a quick buck. It had happened before. My eyes skimmed over the article, distracted, when suddenly a name jumped out at me. I read the sentence. "The woman claiming to have spotted the Heliopath in this tiny northern village is none other than Ms. Teresa Green, an esteemed enthusiast of magical creatures and member of the Wizengamot."

I knew Teresa very well, through having worked with her more than once in the past. We shared a grant from Hogwarts School to analyse the magical creatures in the Forbidden Forest to ensure it was right that it remained forbidden a few years ago. If _she_ was saying it was a Heliopath, then it was worth Rolf listening.

Two days later, I was looking for somewhere to stay in the tiny village of Camogli, desperate to start my search the next morning. I'd been informed the one hotel they had was fun, but that there was a local resident with a spare room willing to put me up.

The night was passed rather comfortably, and the next morning, I was out the door before sunrise.

I began the trek up the side of the hill that bordered the village. On the other side of it, I was informed there was a wide valley, which the Heliopath called home. It took an hour to climb to the top, but when I reached it, the view was spectacular.

It was a perfect representation of the idyllic Italian orchards, rolling green hills and wild flowers surrounding an old vineyard that stretched for miles. I stopped and stared, breathless, for a moment.

"Beatuiful, isn't it?" a voice asked, startling me from my reverie. I'd thought I was alone, but as I turned, I caught sight of a woman smiling at me, her coral jumper clashing with the white-blonde of her long hair. Her eyes were a sharp, ice blue and yet were welcoming and kind.

"Yes," I told her, gulping.

"If you're looking for the Heliopath, I think it's moved," she responded, as if looking for a legendary creature was a perfectly normal past time.

"Oh," I replied, "That's a shame."

"I camped here all night but I saw nothing," she shrugged, looking a little disappointed but smiling none the less. "I'm supposed to be here on holiday, but I couldn't resist this one."

"I'm here for completely unrelated research. I know the feeling," I smiled. "I'll stick around today and check for signs of habitation, at least. Thank you for your help. If I don't find anything, I can always go back to what I'm supposed to be doing with pixies."

"Pixies? What are you doing with pixies?" she asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly. I began to explain, and soon conversation was flowing between us with spontaneous laughter and genuine interest.

I might not have found the Heliopath, but perhaps I'd found something better.


	13. MillicentBlaise: Beauty and the Beast

**Written for:**  
 **February Event at Hogwarts:** (title) Beauty and the Beast, and (word) infatuation/infatuated.  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Blaise Zabini  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 883\. One's Worth  
 **Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Millicent Bulstrode - Write about Millicent Bulstrode  
 **Words:** 1095

* * *

 **Beauty and the Beast: Pretty Looks Like**

Millicent wasn't pretty. She'd known it for as long as she'd known the word 'pretty'. She'd always been too tall and broad, with an angular face. She'd never been graceful or dainty. When she walked, her feet fell heavily, loudly announcing her presence. She couldn't compete with the Pansy Parkinsons and Daphne Greengrasses of the world.

When she was old enough to be interested in boys, she wasn't foolish. She knew they weren't interested in her. They'd sit with her when their girlfriends were giving them the silent treatment because she was a safe option. Their girlfriends wouldn't get jealous. They'd ask her for advice on how to get with her friends. She didn't tell them how much it hurt. Her weaknesses were never put out on display for the world to see.

Instead, she wore her sense of humour like it was a breast plate. Her brains acted as her helmet. Her sharp wit was her saber. If she wore her personality like it was armour, no one ever could hurt her too much.

But by the time her school years came to an end, Millicent felt like the only eighteen year old that hadn't been kissed. She started her training in the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

"It's a man's world," her boss told her, "but you'll be alright."

Millicent wanted to punch the misogynistic smile right off his face. She took her lunch alone in the Ministry canteen. She didn't expect anyone to join her. The question, "Do you mind if I take this seat?" took her so completely off guard, it took her a few seconds to answer.

"Sure," she said, looking up at Blaise Zabini. She remembered him from school, of course. He'd never really been one of the boys who came to her for advice. In fact, he very often kept himself to himself, lurking quietly in the shadows. She'd have assumed he didn't even know her name.

"So, which department are you in, Millicent?" he asked as he ate, striking up casual conversation.

Millicent told him, and he looked suitably impressed. Millicent waited for the usual comment about her gender. "Nice. It's really difficult to get in there. They get over thirty applicants for each position. They must have seen something they liked."

They talked all lunch. Every time Millicent expected him to say one thing, he said another. It confused her, but she had to admit she liked it. It kept her on her toes. It proved he had a fresh outlook on life. It made him interesting.

She was glad when he came to sit with her the next day. She was in awe at how laid back he was, how easily they could fall into discussion.

The subject of relationships came up the week after, and Millicent asked if he was seeing anyone.

"I see a lot of people, but most of them don't intrigue me enough," he replied with a half-smile before turning the question around on her.

The second weekend after they'd begun talking, he invited her out for drinks. He'd picked a friendly pub off Diagon Alley, somewhere quiet enough that they'd be able to hear each other. The low ceilings and mismatched furniture gave the place a history and character, and Millicent thoroughly approved.

It was another week before she realised he was actually interested her. If she was honest, she didn't realise it. One of the secretaries for her team had seen them together at lunch every day, and she'd put two and two together for Millicent. Millicent didn't understand it. No one had ever liked her before. She didn't think anyone ever would.

The next time he asked her out, it was to a music hall. A string quartet was covering some popular songs of the moment just outside of Ottery St. Catchpole. As the band worked its way through a Celestina Warbeck number, Millicent took a large sip of her Firewhiskey and Pumpkin Juice and turned to Blaise.

"Why are you interested in me?" she asked.

"Because you're interesting," Blaise smoothly replied.

"That's not what I meant."

Blaise turned to watch the band for a moment, completely relaxed as he reclined in his chair, running a finger around the rim of his glass.

"Then what did you mean?"

Millicent was stumped by that one. She looked down at her glass as she spoke. "I don't know. I just… I'm not pretty. I'm not girly or sweet. I'm more beast than beauty. I've got no grace, or coordination."

"That's no way to decide one's worth. You're just listing words," he commented.

"They're true words," she shrugged.

"What does pretty even mean?" he asked her.

Millicent resisted the urge to laugh. "What?"

"What does pretty mean? Think about it. It's a ridiculous word. It's completely subjective. Your idea of pretty is different to everyone else's. No one defines it in quite the same way as anyone else. So you telling me you're not pretty essentially means you're saying you don't think you're pretty."

"Well, I don't."

"But no one else defines pretty in the same way as you do," he finished, as if his point was made.

Millicent thought about it for a moment, confusion etched all over her face. "What are you saying?" she eventually asked him.

Blaise smiled. "I'm saying I think you're pretty."

Millicent was taken aback. She felt her cheeks burn. She'd never learnt how to take a compliment.

"Thank you," she mumbled. "What's your definition of pretty?"

"Pretty girls are clever, and funny. They never quite say what I expect them to say. They keep me on my toes. They have a way of answering questions that leaves me with even more questions, but they slip away before I can ask them, leaving me thinking about them all the time. There's something I can never quite forget about pretty girls," he replied.

"The word 'pretty' relates to the visual aesthetics of a person. Your definition has nothing to do with appearances," Millicent argued.

Blaise just shrugged. "Pretty girls look like you."

Millicent said nothing, and the pair sat in silence as the band ended their song. The background din worked up again as the band took a quick break, and Blaise sat up, looking at Millicent.

"I know this is only our second date, but I want to be honest. I'm completely infatuated with you. I'd love to take you out again next week, if you'll let me," he told her.

Millicent smiled. She didn't know what else she could do. "Okay," she told him.


	14. Hinny: Freak

**Written for:**  
 **February Event at Hogwarts:** (dialogue) "I think anybody who falls in love is a freak. It's a crazy thing to do. It's kind of like a form of socially acceptable insanity." and (emotion/feeling) optimistic  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Ginny Weasley  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 388\. The Truth Never Lies  
 **Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Ginny Weasley - Write about Ginny Weasley  
 **Valentine-Making Station:** Write about your NOTP. Convince readers that you ship it.  
 **Gringotts Prompt Bank:** (Various Poems) Inspiration from "The Orange" by Wendy Cope. (OC Names) Morticia Nox *Sophie's Pick*, Anne Farbridge. (said words) joked. (prepositions) about, after, against, along, aside  
 **Words:** 691

* * *

 **Freak**

Ginny knew she was having a good day. She'd woken up before her alarm, and she'd actually felt awake this morning instead of groggy. She'd showered, and the extra few minutes gave her time to take care of her hair, meaning it was in a pretty plait instead of being shoved into a ponytail.

She'd arrived at work at eight o'clock, but today's training felt easier than yesterday's. She'd given it her all, and happily, feeling more than ready for the match against the Magpies later that week. Their manager had been watching today, so some of the team were feeling the pressure, and made mistakes. Ginny just knew she was playing well; she didn't even flinch when she felt the businesswoman's eye on her.

She'd pulled Ginny aside at the start of the lunch break to compliment her. "Keep that enthusiasm up and you'll go far," she'd said with a smile.

Sat in the canteen, eating some strange concoction that seemed to be mainly brown rice and tuna, Ginny was with her two best friends on the team, Morticia Nox and Anne Farbridge.

"How was your date last night?" Anne turned to Morticia to ask, with a curious smile on her face.

"Oh, he was awful. Don't even ask about it," Morticia responded, grimacing at the mere thought. "At this rate, I'm never gonna find love. I'll die an old hag surrounded by cats."

Ginny and Anne laughed at the image, knowing it wasn't true. Morticia had been on more dates than Ginny and Anne combined, and she was barely twenty years old.

"You'll be fine, Tisha. Trust me," Ginny told her with a warm smile.

"What about you, Ginny? How's your love life?" Anne asked, wondering if there was anything going on that she didn't yet know about.

"Non-existent and suiting me just fine," Ginny replied. She'd dated Harry for a while after graduating from Hogwarts, but as they both began to feel the pressures of adulthood, they'd decided it was best to go their separate ways and focus more on their careers. Ginny was in love with the independence. She had more money, more time, and more choice over what she did with both.

It was a shame, Ginny thought, that most people didn't understand the logic. There was an assumption that any single girl was waiting for the right man to come along, and Ginny didn't know how to explain that she wasn't. She was happy and complete all on her own.

"Don't you even want to find love?" Morticia asked, seeming a little confused by Ginny's stance on romance.

"I think anybody who falls in love is a freak. It's a crazy thing to do. It's kind of like a form of socially acceptable insanity," Ginny admitted with a shrug.

"Merlin. Anne, if I ever get that cynical, Avada Kedavra me on the spot," Morticia joked.

"Haha, sure, I'll jot that down!" came Anne's response.

Once they'd finished eating, they began to head back down onto the pitch, ready for the afternoon's work. Before they stepped outside, Ginny couldn't resist the urge to check her mobile phone, just in case she'd received anything important that morning. She pulled it out of her handbag and turned on the screen. No calls, but one text message. She opened her inbox to see who it was from. Reading Harry's name, she felt her stomach lurch and she smiled.

 _Hey Ginny. Just wanted to let you know I had a really great time last Saturday with you. It'd be great to see you again soon. Harry_

Ginny could feel the grin spreading over her face, but she wasn't in control of it. It was as involuntary as the fluttering of her heartbeat as it began to speed up. She thought back to the bold statement she'd made to her friends just moments before, and knew she was being hypocritical, but all the same, her future was looking more than bright. She was optimistic about everything, and she was pretty sure the feeling settling in the pit of her stomach made her, by her own definition, a bit of a freak after all.


	15. MinervaAlphard: Love, Actually

**Written for:  
** **February Event at Hogwarts:** (title) Love, Actually and (emotion/feeling) challenged.  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Alphard Black  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 722\. If I Listened To Myself, I'd…  
 **Writing Bingo:** Minerva McGonagall/Alphard Black  
 **Valentine-Making Station:** Ice Cream Cone Sticker - Write something set during the summer.  
 **Gringotts Prompt Bank:** (emotion) optimistic  
 **Words:** 580

* * *

 **Love, Actually**

Minerva found herself sat next to him at a seminar. The greatest minds in Transfiguration were gathered to listen to world-leading researchers discuss the latest innovations and discoveries. She'd never spoken to this man before, with his family's characteristic good looks, but even the presence of one of the Pureblood elite couldn't dampen her spirits that day.

She hadn't expected much conversation out of Alphard Black, but he soon surprised her. After the first talk, during the first tea break, he asked her opinion on the subject matter. She answered him rather dryly, and his bark like laughter proved a bit of a challenge for Minerva. It was far from the haughty refinery she'd come to expect from his line, and as such, she struggled to figure him out. It wasn't long before they were engaged in a debate. His vivacity and lifelessness worked alongside his sense of humour to warm Minerva to him. Her initial surprise turned into an understanding that something about this man was different, and by the end of the day, she found him comparable to a breath of fresh air, or a cooling summer breeze.

It was less than a week later when he wrote to her. It being summer, Alphard seemed very aware that she had free time.

"If it wouldn't trouble you, perhaps you'd consider joining me for luncheon to continue our discussion. I found your conversation to be very refreshing, and I don't believe we reached a conclusion on the nature of transformative spells," he wrote, sounding sincere and polite, but unwaveringly optimistic.

Minerva wrote back, suggesting she visit on Saturday.

She took the Floo Network to his abode, a rather ostentatious house in Central London, but by Black standards, the rooms were rather light and bare. He admitted to attempting to cook the food himself before giving up and passing the baton back to his talented House Elf, and Minerva laughed. It was a genuine laugh, striking her completely unawares. Minerva hadn't laughed like that, she noted, since Dougal McGregor.

Minerva wasn't looking for love, not at all. In fact, she was trying to stay as far away from it as possible. But something about the way Alphard laughed made her cast aside her troubles. Something about the way his eyes sparkled reminded Minerva's heart of how it used to sing loudly, bravely, to anyone who would listen. The life of her youth had been reduced through the years to a dull ache in the background, but Alphard managed to bring it back. It was heart-warming, but it also struck Minerva a little like a puzzle. She didn't understand where this carefree side of herself had arisen from. She didn't know why.

She visited him again the next week, and found herself not wanting to go home. Hogwarts had always brought her great comfort, but its halls somehow felt emptier now, its walls colder.

"I'm probably being ridiculously optimistic, but I find it a wonderful way to cope with life. Minerva, I'd like to invite you out for dinner with me," Alphard told her, a mischievous smile on his face as his eyes lit up with hope.

"If I listened to myself, I'd stay away from you," she told him with a shrewd smile of her own. "But if I always listened to myself, I'd never live."

She returned home that night in high spirits, unable to sleep, like she was no less a victim of romance than the teenage girls she taught.

She admitted to herself that night something she'd tried to pretend she didn't know for years. That love, actually, always left a door open when it departed, and it was always when you least expected it that someone would walk through it.


	16. DaphneOC: Sweetcorn Man

**Written for:**  
 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Thomas More – Write about someone who could be involved with or related to any member of the British Monarchy.  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 432\. Wicked Grin.  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Daphne Greengrass  
 **Valentine-Making Station:** Wink Wink Conversation Hearts Candy - Write about two characters who do not move beyond flirting.  
 **Words:** 822

* * *

 **Sweetcorn Man**

She didn't know he was a prince. When you meet someone on a Tuesday afternoon in your local supermarket, it's hardly the first thing on anyone's mind: is this person a royal? In all fairness, she should have recognised him. His face was hardly an unknown to the people of Britain, splashed all over the tabloids and media as he is. But, well, Daphne was a witch, and a pureblood at that. While the _Daily Mail_ often had him on its front page, the _Daily Prophet_ barely deemed him fit for inclusion in its gossip columns.

So when he saw Daphne struggling to reach the tins of sweetcorn on the top shelf and gallantly stepped in, Daphne thanked him in what was probably the least respectful way she could have thought of.

"Thank you!" she began. "It's so annoying being short. Life's just that little bit harder, you know? It's something you have to think about a lot. Mind you, I suppose being tall's just as annoying. How tall are you, if you don't mind me asking? Do you have to remember to duck through doorways? I never have to pay attention to those 'low ceiling – mind your head' signs, but I bet you have to duck through all of them, don't you? Oh, gosh, I'm sorry, I'm rambling! You only came here to get your shopping and now you're being accosted by some crazy girl!" she laughed, realising she'd dug herself a hole deeper than an oil rig, but not knowing how to get herself out.

He laughed too, good-naturedly, "It's okay," he assured her. "I think being short is more annoying than being tall, though I do have to duck under things a lot. I'm six foot one," he smiled.

Daphne smiled back. "Well, thank you for your help, I'll let you get back to your shopping."

They parted ways, but they soon realised they were walking the aisles of the supermarket in the same direction and at the same pace. It's a quintessentially British problem, the insufferable level of awkwardness associated with repeatedly seeing someone you've engaged in small talk with. It's not within the realms of British manners to ignore someone you've previously acknowledged, but smiling at the person every minute when your paths cross again is awkward in its own right, and after a while, your muscles start to ache.

Daphne did what any well-adjusted Brit would do in that situation and did her best to look distracted, staring at the back of a product she wasn't even intending to buy with an expression of deep concentration, or staring down the next aisle in contemplation as if trying to decide if there was anything in the aisle she needed to buy. After reading the back of a pack of toilet roll for five minutes and looking remarkably confused over the decision of if there was anything she needed to buy in the baby products aisle, she was feeling quite stupid and began to get distracted.

It was then that she noticed the man at the other end of the aisle. He was dressed in black, head to toe, and had his eyes in every possible direction, tense and alert. She'd seen him a few times, actually, he just hadn't registered until then. She'd assumed he was another shopper, but closer inspection told her he wasn't actually buying anything. In fact, she noticed with unease, he seemed to be following the man who'd helped her with the sweetcorn.

In the next aisle, she ran into sweetcorn man again, only this time she moved to stand beside him instead of avoiding him.

She cleared her throat. "Sorry to disturb you again, but I think there's a man following you."

Sweetcorn man looked remarkably concerned and shocked. "Oh, that can't be good," he commented. "What does he look like? Which one is he?"

"Erm… he's bald. And he's wearing glasses. He's dressed all in black. He's got his arms crossed," Daphne said.

"Oh. Him. He doesn't look nice, does he?" he asked rhetorically. "Actually, he kind of looks like a bodyguard." As he said this, a hint of amusement passed over his face.

"He does actually," Daphne mused, and it took a few seconds for understanding to hit. "He's not, is he? Your bodyguard?" she asked.

Sweetcorn man nodded with a warm, wicked grin.

"Oh. Are you some kind of celebrity or something? Are you a movie star or a prince?" she asked, suddenly taken aback by amazement.

"Hmm," he thought. "One of those."

"Oh, gosh. I've made a complete fool of myself," Daphne commented, recoiling in horror, wishing the ground had opened up and swallowed her ten minutes ago.

"Quite the contrary. You've been very entertaining," he told her.

"Well, I'm glad one of use thinks so," Daphne returned in embarrassment.

"In fact," sweetcorn celebrity man began. "Would it be terribly forward of me to ask for your phone number?"

* * *

 **A/N:** So I purposefully kept the identity of the Prince ambiguous through not wanting to write specifically about a real member of the Royal family. Feel free to imagine it as your favourite Royal, or as an OC. It's up to you.


	17. MarcusOC: Taboo

**Written for:**  
 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Club:** Write an AU in which marrying muggles is illegal.  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Marcus Flint  
 **If You Dare… Challenge:** 769\. Taboo  
 **Words:** 175

* * *

 **Taboo**

When faced with the question of why he went to such places, Marcus could never quite say. Something about the reckless abandon of the secret danger attracted him. It was never part of his real life; no one there was a real friend. It was an escape from all of that.

Until her.

When she invited him back to her home, Marcus didn't decline. When they tumbled in the sheets and lay spent, he didn't leave. When she offered breakfast and coffee, he didn't make an excuse.

The next time he spent a night in that same club, he found himself searching faces, corners, booths, for her. She found him, just as he was leaving early with a distinct feeling that he'd wasted a night.

Faced with her, Marcus was torn. Between what was good and what was right. Between his impulses and his morals. Between one world and another.

The law wouldn't let him be hers. Even if he wished it were so.

Marcus looked at her smile one last time and walked away.


	18. RemusLily: I Don't Want James Potter

**Title:** I Don't Want James Potter  
 **Genre:** Drama/Romance  
 **Rating:** K+  
 **Warnings:** None **  
** _Written for Samantha, HP Slash Luv, for winning the Months of the Year Competition I ran.  
_ Also written for the following challenges:  
 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Banshee - Someone is extremely emotional and distressed in your story.  
 **If You Dare:** 911\. New Truths  
 **Words:** 900

* * *

 **I Don't Want James Potter**

"Remus, help me out!" She flung her arms about her with a wild look in her eyes. "He's one of your best friends, right?" she asked, rounding on him.

"Right," Remus calmly agreed, staring up at her. He was sat in an the middle of an empty classroom while she wandered around it like a tornado that was conscientious enough to not disturb anything important in its path like chairs and tables.

"Right," she agreed. "So why are you friends with such a jerk? If you're friends with him, he must have some redeemable qualities. You must see redeemable qualities in him, yeah?"

Lily stared at him, stopping her wanderings with such force that her stillness was more disconcerting than her lack of stillness had been a mere moment before.

"Er, well, usually I can, I guess," Remus replied while reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck and stare decidedly at the floor.

"Well, what are they?" she asked him.

"He's, well, usually, very thoughtful when it comes to others. And, er, stuff like that."

"Thoughtful with others? You're kidding me, right? If he was thoughtful about others, surely he'd have got it into his thick skull by now that he's absolutely the opposite of what I'm attracted to? Why hasn't he figured that out yet?"

The two fifth year students stared at each other in a sort of impasse. Remus screwed up his face as if trying very hard not to say anything, as if concerned that anything resembling words would provoke the fierce red-head even further. Lily stood in silence, arms folded, hips at a jaunty angle, waiting, challenging.

"Well, I don't know."

"You just don't want to tell me!" she criticised feeling very certain she was correct in that assumption. "I don't want someone arrogant, someone who only thinks of themselves, someone who's more concerned with looking good than being a good person. I don't want James Potter!"

"Well, let's focus on something more positive," Remus suggested, raising his eyebrows in his desperate attempt to change the conversation. "What do you want?"

Lily frowned as if she'd never even considered asking herself a similar question. Her voice lost its harsh edge as she replied, stumbling over the words.

"What do I want? Well, I don't know. Er, I guess I want someone kind. Someone patient. Someone who's not afraid to look like an idiot, or say sorry. Someone… someone who at least half cares about their school work and other important things. Someone who knows that rules are usually in place for a reason, and should only be broken when your reason for breaking them is more important."

Lily abruptly stopped in her ramblings and looked at Remus with wide, shocked eyes. Her mouth dropped open like a lock had just been released on her bottom jaw, sending it crashing downwards. Remus frowned in confusion at her expression.

"What is i-"

"I want you."

She cut him off so abruptly it took a second for the sentence she spoke to register with Remus. When it did, he let out a nervous laugh and looked resolutely at the far corner of the room.

"Lily, you can't just say things like that. I mean, think about it, that's ridiculous. We're friends, so it'd be weird. And-"

"Remus, shut up." The anger and hardness in her early words entirely dissipated. She spoke with a voice so soft and low, he felt compelled to look at her.

"Okay," he replied with a short cough.

She stepped towards him, closing the gap within two steps as she leaned down to his level. Without allowing either of them to pause and think even for a moment, she kissed him with firm, questioning lips.

"What was that?" Remus asked. Lily held her pose, her face a couple of inches from his. If she pulled away, that felt like giving up.

"I don't know. What was it to you?" she asked him. Lily was suddenly nervous, wanting to look away from him and bite her lip, but unwilling to let herself.

"Lily… I can't. I can't do that to James." Remus' voice was barely over a whisper.

"You're not doing anything to James," Lily protested.

"Aside from breaking his heart, you mean?"

"He doesn't have one to break."

"Lily…" Remus looked away, as if the right words were sat at the other end of the classroom. "You don't think he does, but you don't know him. I do. After all he's done for me, I'm sorry. I can't."

"What do you want?" Lily asked.

"What?" Remus looked at her as if he didn't understand the question.

"Pretend that there's nothing that could stand in your way. Pretend Potter doesn't exist. What do you want? What would you want to do? Because if you still don't like me in that way, then fine. I'll walk away. But if you do… I don't… I don't know."

Remus looked at her with fear in his eyes. Lily could see indecision in the tight line of his mouth while the silence dragged on.

"I can't… I can't lie. It's never been a strong point of mine. I can't say I don't like you," he told her, as quietly as it was possible to speak words. As if he was afraid that James might overhear them from wherever he was.

"Then kiss me again," Lily whispered back.


	19. BlaiseDaphne: The Old Flame

**Title:** The Old Flame  
 **Genre:** Romance  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Warnings:** Mention of smoking, mention of past sexual situations, alcohol use **  
** _Written for Samantha, HP Slash Luv, for winning the Months of the Year Competition I ran.  
_ Also written for the following challenges:  
 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Moke - Write about someone who prefers to be alone  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 909\. Second Tries  
 **Valentine Making Station:** Lacey Ribbons - write about a wedding  
 **Challenge Your Versatility:** Genre - Romance/Fluff  
 **Words:** 1792

* * *

 **The Old Flame**

The backs of the chairs were tied with pale green lace ribbons so perfect it looked as though they'd spent hours grooming themselves in front of the mirror that morning. No,that was a lie; they had looked that perfect before the people had arrived, pouring into the room and sitting down on those chairs, not sparing a thought to the bows they squashed and bashed and ultimately ruined with complete disregard.

One woman—the sort of woman whose face was beginning to wrinkle and tug downwards; the sort of woman who covered that face in too many coats of makeup to try and hide these facts; the sort of woman who pulled her hair back so severely it gave her an extra half inch of forehead—this woman squashed past the bows between two chairs, tugged idly on the bow of the chair besides her, buried the bow on her own chair under her bag and coat. An hour after settling in, she even had the audacity to comment on how nice the chairs looked.

Blaise listened to her comments with a scowl from the next table as he took a large gulp of his Odgen's Finest on ice before bringing the glass down to the table with a little too much force. The ice rattled around the glass as noisily as it could as if taking offence at being handled so roughly. Blaise didn't give it any notice in the slightest as he watched the couples and groups on the dancefloor. His eyes settled into a glare that could only have been born out of complete belief in his own superiority over everyone else.

He was certain he was the only person between the ages of ten and fifty that wasn't on the dancefloor, apart from a few very exhausted young parents, but he was perfectly happy with that. In fact, there was nowhere he could think of he'd least like to be except on the dancefloor. In fact, the dancefloor itself didn't seem to want anyone on it. It was evidently slippy, given the number of falls he'd witnessed, and the tiles were uneven and seemed to be very attracted to all sorts of beverages, he guessed from the number of drinks spilled. Blaise was certain this combination didn't make for great dancing conditions.

He turned his attention to the attendees that were sat down, instead, wondering if he was indeed the most miserable-looking person in the room like he assumed he was. A young father Blaise vaguely remembered from his school days—was he an Avery? Bullstrode? MacNair?—sat with a baby in his arms that he was desperately attempting to keep a firm grip on. The baby scrambled and strained and screamed as if this very moment was the very worst moment he'd ever experienced in his life. Blaise felt a pang of sympathy for the infant as he agreed on that fact.

He turned his gaze to the other tables. All the older guests had gathered around each other at the back of the room. Two of the women were dominating the conversation, fighting over each other to be heard. Although, as the rest of the table seemed to be stuck in states ranging from half awake to sound asleep, Blaise wasn't sure who they were hoping to be heard by.

That was when Blaise saw her. Behind the Retirement Club, at a table in the back corner steeped in darkness, a young woman sat alone. She was scowling at the dancefloor while lazily circling a stirrer in her glass. The pale green satin gown marked her as one of the bridesmaids, and yet she wasn't with the bride. She wasn't, indeed, anywhere near any of the bridal party. Blaise recognised her. She had the same tall, slender figure and mousy blonde hair as the rest of her family, and the lack of a white dress marked her as Daphne.

He immediately felt compelled to go over to her, but was very troubled by this compulsion. Given their history together, he knew he should stay well away. Troubled didn't begin to describe the memories that flitted past his mind's eye.. The hatred came first. The teasing second. The awkward friendship. The fall out. The angry time spent together in a broom cupboard. The pitiful attempt at a relationship. Strangers again. Awkward friends. Acquaintances. Nothing more. He shouldn't walk over to her. He knew he shouldn't. He had no reason to, and they didn't speak to each other without reason.

And yet there was something, something he couldn't place or name, worrying at the back of his mind like an itch he couldn't reach, something that sat on the tip of his tongue. Words unsaid that he didn't know, yet. Thoughts he wasn't sure he'd ever had that suddenly begged him to be spoken out loud.

Against his better judgement, he downed the rest of his drink and left the glass behind, lonely on the table, as he weaved his way past countless garish bows to her table.

She didn't see him approach. She was staring at her parents as they attempted to dance with some of her younger cousins. Her face was scrunched up into something that resembled confused repulsion. Blaise held back a small smile at that and instead assumed a mask of politeness.

"Enjoying the party?" he asked, holding his face stoic in the hopes of giving nothing away.

Daphne looked up at him, painted lips parted in a moment of surprise before she smiled. It was a fake sort of smile, the sort that said absolutely nothing at all about anything. Blaise couldn't even tell if it was good or bad.

"Yes, very. In fact, I think my favourite part of the whole day is these bows on the backs of the chairs. They're remarkably uniform, don't you think?" A picture of decorum and charm, she raised an eyebrow gently.

He felt, rather suddenly, as though it were opening night and the curtains were coming up, but he hadn't even had a chance to read the script yet.

"They were before the guests arrived, I believe. Do you mind if I take a seat?" he asked her.

"That depends if you plan on buying another glass of Firewhiskey as a bargaining chip or not," she said, loosening her grip on her facade just a little.

"It would be rude of me not to," Blaise responded before heading for the bar. The price of a drink was a small one to pay for… well, he wasn't entirely sure what for yet, but he felt sure it would be something interesting.

He was served quickly which was surprising when one considered it was a wedding. Blaise thought it was mainly because the majority of the guests were otherwise occupied with a particularly popular song about love being the fourth Unforgivable Curse. A wildly ridiculous idea, Blaise thought, but the guitar riff was quite catchy.

Returning to the table, he decided not to hesitate as he slipped into the seat beside her and placed one glass in front of her, never letting go of the other.

"You're too kind," she told him, smiling still and lifting her glass.

"To the happily married couple," she toasted.

"And may they, unlike so many others, long remain that way."

They drank at the same time after a clinking of glasses, both content with the burn of the alcohol.

"So, what's your favourite part of the evening?" she asked him, attempting to make small talk.

"Would you prefer the socially acceptable and expected answer or the frank one?"

"Oh, honesty is always more interesting."

He smiled.

"My favourite part was when all the pointless chit-chat was over, and everyone buggered off to the dancefloor and left me alone with my drink," he said, somewhat sourly.

Daphne held her composure for a second before giggling at him.

"Perhaps a toast to kindred spirits, then?" she asked him.

"I'm not sure we've ascertained that as a fact yet. Let's see… My second favourite moment was the one I stole to sneak a cigarette around the side of the greenhouse."

"Do you have cigarettes? Don't tell Tori, but I've been dying for one all day," she admitted. "It's my only vice."

"It isn't my only one, but it's one we share, it seems. Shall we see if we can't find that greenhouse again?" he asked.

Daphne smiled at him, her green eyes lighting up with promise.

"I knew I liked you for a reason," she told him.

"I wasn't aware you did like me," he replied. "The last I knew, we'd settled into an uncomfortable casual disinterest."

"On the surface, of course. But our history isn't all bad, Blaise. There was laughter there, wasn't there? And kindness."

Blaise was taken aback. It wasn't like Daphne to get nostalgic. Perhaps she'd drunk more than it seemed.

"Of course there was," he told her, not wanting to add any thoughts of his own through fear of instigating something.

Daphne stopped walking, staring at him, taking a moment to decide on her words.

"Then I think we should attempt to be friends once more, and I think that should start with a cigarette. If only because it'll keep me occupied on something more positive than comparing my failure of a life with my sister's perfect one for a few moments."

"They're bad for you, you know." Blaise quipped, attempting to make light of the moment.

"Friends?"

"Of course, but everyone knows that. I was referring to the cigarettes."

"Which is almost exactly why I occasionally feel the need to indulge. When social convention dictates much of a person's life, that person must, from time to time, find some sort of reason to be frowned upon," Daphne returned with a smile.

"Never a truer word was spoken. Now, about that friend thing…" Blaise began.

Daphne said nothing, staring at him with an eyebrow raised in question.

"I don't think I can do it, I'm afraid. There just isn't time in my schedule for another friend," he told her, his voice downcast. There was a gleam in his eye, however, that Daphne smiled at.

"Well, that's a shame, but I'm sure I'll find another helpless soul to fill my free time on Tuesday evenings."

"Oh, Tuesday evening? Well, there is a gap on my calendar next week on that very day, but it's designated for a date. You could always join me?"

"Hmm…" Daphne began. "Do you promise it'll be better than our first date?"

"Yes, I promise it'll be better than the broom shed of Hogwarts' Quidditch Pitch on a rainy Sunday night." His smile was so wide he was almost laughing.

"Then I think I can make it, yes."


End file.
